


Hysteria

by sneaqui



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneaqui/pseuds/sneaqui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames discovers that Arthur becomes aroused when he's tickled. Hilarity ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hysteria

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Krytella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krytella/gifts).



> A few days ago, [krytella](http://archiveofourown.org/users/krytella) was talking about 'tickling' being an unfilled prompt on her kink_bingo card. I decided to write a fic that included said kink, because TICKLING!  
> For a good time, google the word 'knismolagnia'. You won't be disappointed, I swear.
> 
> Beta = [ladderax (allnuthatchforest)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/allnuthatchforest). <3

The second time they ever fuck is the first time Eames encounters Arthur’s kink. He’s kneeling between Arthur’s spread thighs, balls deep inside of him, pumping his hips in a slow unbroken ellipse so that the tip of his cock glides across Arthur’s prostate every time he pulls his hips back. Arthur is flat on his back, playing with his own nipples and riding the rhythm of Eames’ thrusts.

Eames could do this for hours, keep himself on the edge of orgasm just so that he could watch Arthur, eyes shut and hands skimming down his chest, moaning as he presses his palms into his belly and the creases between his pelvis and his thighs. It’s as if Eames isn’t even there. As if the only part of Eames that Arthur needs right now is his cock.

Arthur’s fingers slide lower and wrap around his own cock. He strokes himself slowly for a few moments, letting out a series of soft sighs. And then he reaches down with his other hand to tug gently at Eames’ balls.

Eames groans, “Fuck you’re incredible.”

Arthur smiles and his eyelids slide open just a touch. “You too.”

Eames turns his head to the side so that he can kiss the edge of Arthur’s kneecap. He skims his palms across Arthur’s hip bones, down his ass and up the backs of his thighs, letting his fingertips dance over the warm, sticky skin there.

Arthur bucks hard and cries out, “ _Shit_.”

Arthur’s ass clenches around Eames’ cock, and Eames chokes and stops moving, burying himself inside Arthur’s body and shuddering. He looks up at Arthur and says, panting, “Liked that, did you?”

He splays both his hands over Arthur’s ass cheeks, and just as he’s about to trail them up the backs of Arthur’s thighs again, Arthur grips the base of his own cock and locks his thighs around Eames’ hips. “Don’t,” he says. His eyes are wide open now.

Eames grins. “Arthur.” He begins to walk his fingers up Arthur’s legs, interested in seeing what happens if he tickles the soft skin behind Arthur’s knees. “Are you ticklish?”

Arthur responds by hooking left leg around Eames’ right, surging up and flipping them over so that Eames is on his back and Arthur is sitting in his lap. He grabs Eames’ forearms and pushes them above his head. The knobby bones in Eames’ wrist knock against the headboard and he whines, “Ow. Arthur, what the fuck?”

Arthur takes a deep breath and licks his lips. “I don’t- I don’t want to come yet.” He bows his head, seeming almost shy for a moment. “And if you keep doing that I will.”

Eames’ eyes light up. “Really?”

“Really. And I’ll probably end up kicking you in the face accidentally.”

“You’re really that ticklish?”

“Yeah, I really am.”

Eames begins to rock his hips gently, suddenly desperate to be inside Arthur again. “Well, I suppose next time I’ll have to tie you down.”

Arthur looks up at Eames, and his grip on Eames’ forearms loosens. “Next time?”

Eames slides his arms free and reaches up to pull Arthur to his chest and kiss him. “Next time.”

~

“Is this an electric toothbrush?”

Arthur smirks and says, “Eames, you know exactly what it is. Don’t ask stupid questions.” He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, completely naked, wrapping leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles. Eames had wanted to do it, but Arthur had insisted that getting the positioning just right on his boney extremities wasn’t easy.

It’s been two months since Eames’ discovery. Eames has just come off a job, and Arthur’s about to start one. Eames hadn’t attempted to contact Arthur until just a couple of days before he was due to leave for Prague, in case Arthur had wanted to use the upcoming job as an excuse to back out. Of course, Arthur had called him on it. He’d called Eames back, and the first words out of his mouth when Eames had picked up had been, “Took you long enough. I’m booking your flight right now. Where would you rather connect through: Newark or Dulles?”

Eames stands in front of Arthur’s bedside table, staring down at a lineup of seemingly unrelated objects: a feather, a sable paintbrush, an electric toothbrush and curved glass dildo with a handle on the end. Eames picks up this last object and turns to face Arthur. “Is this the only form of penetration you’ll allow?”

“It’s not about what I’ll allow. It’s about what’s safe. The ropes have some give to them, so even tied down I’ll be squirming a lot. If you get your dick out while we’re playing, I can’t guarantee its safety.”

Eames winces and puts the dildo back down on the table. He picks up the feather and brushes the barbs over the tips of his fingers. “Do you have a safeword?” he asks Arthur.

“The safeword is ‘golf’.”

Eames chuckles and turns around to lean his hip against the end table. He studies Arthur’s movements as he threads the rope through the rings on the cuffs. “Any particular reason for using that word?”

“Yeah. Because I can’t think of anything less sexy than golf.” Arthur arranges himself on the center of the mattress and tosses the ropes out towards the bed posts.

Eames tucks the feather behind his ear and walks to the end of the bed to start tying Arthur up. Arthur lays back on the mattress and closes his eyes, pulling deep breaths in through his nose and whistling them out through his mouth. He gives each rope a tug with its respective limb and a brief glance once Eames is finished tying it.

Eames is on the last rope, binding Arthur’s left hand when Arthur says, “You know what you’re doing.” His voice is low and husky, as if he’s speaking from some deep part of himself.

Eames shrugs. “You’re not the first man I’ve tied up. Although you are the first one I’ve tied up as a precursor to sex.”

“You don’t fool me, Eames. You’ve done your research. So why are you asking me all these questions about penetration and safe words that I know you know the answers to?”

“Perhaps I just like to hear you talk about it.”

“Really? I figured you’d be turned off by the fact that I’m as demanding in bed as I am on the job.”

Eames toes off his shoes and his socks and shrugs out of his jacket. He lays down, otherwise fully clothed, along Arthur’s side. Arthur opens his eyes and looks up at him with a foggy, relaxed gaze. The fact that Arthur trusts him so completely shouldn’t surprise Eames; they’ve saved each others lives in the field more than a handful of times. But being with Arthur like this (every muscle in his body bound to the bedposts, spread out naked on sheets that smell like him, his cock soft and his skin warm) both emboldens and humbles Eames in a way that few other things in this world have done. In fact, the only other instance that springs to mind is the first time he stepped into a dream.

Eames untucks the feather from behind his ear. He brushes the barbs over Arthur’s lips and says, “I like that you’re demanding in bed. And exacting. And focused on the details.” Eames runs the feather down the crease that connects Arthur’s mouth to his chin, and Arthur’s lips begin to twitch into a smile. “And a stubborn bastard when it comes to getting what you want-”

“Okay. Alright. I get it, Eames-” Arthur says, chuckling. Eames has barely touched him, and he’s starting to fidget, his shoulders shifting within the cradle of Eames’ arm.

“And I like that you take your own pleasure seriously. I like that it’s important to you.” The barbs on the feather shift, parting into clumps as Eames trails the feather down Arthur’s neck, his sternum, across his nipples, already peaked in anticipation.

Arthur’s words come out on the tail end of short, labored breaths when he says, “This is obviously very- very serious business.” He swallows heavily, shifts underneath Eames and says. “Tickling my genitals with an electric toothbrush is a seri- ah! _Ah_!”

His words dissolve into screams of laughter when Eames abruptly drops the feather and digs his fingers into Arthur’s armpits. Arthur’s hands clench and his heels dig into the mattress as he squirms, his body instinctively trying to escape Eames’ wiggling fingers. But his eyes are bright and his laughter bounces off the walls of his bedroom.

Eames skitters his fingers down Arthur’s chest and then back up again, concentrating his tickling on Arthur’s ribs when he realizes that that’s where he’s most sensitive. Arthur screams out in between snickers and snorts, “Oh god! Oh god!” He buries his face in his own shoulder and squeals into it when Eames moves down to his inner thighs. He thrashes within the confines of the cuffs and seems close to breaking out of them in his hysteria when Eames tickles the soft skin behind his knees.

Eames pauses then. He runs his hands gently up Arthur’s inner thighs and leans down to suck the tip of his cock, fully hard and leaking onto his belly. He looks up to see Arthur staring down at him. He looks drugged. His eyes are glazed, and there’s a dopey grin on his face, and his cheeks are bright red.

Eames pulls off of Arthur’s cock and smiles, unable to help doing so in the face of Arthur’s wanton joy. Eames is not so much turned on as he is delighted. He’s not sure that he’s ever had this much pure fun during sex.

He leans up over Arthur, wipes away the sweaty curls that have fallen into his eyes and kisses him. And then he reaches one hand over to the nightstand and grabs the paintbrush.

The bristles on the paint brush turn Arthur’s sides, biceps and thighs a violent shade of red. But they don’t drive Arthur wild the way Eames’ fingers did. It’s a nice change of pace, actually. Eames goes slow and chooses spots on Arthur’s body at random, keeping Arthur guessing as to where he’s going to attack next.

Arthur writhes on the sheets and keeps his eyes on Eames hands. Every muscle in his body is on high-alert, but he’s smiling. His laughter is a constant low hum in the back of his throat until Eames swoops back in with the brush, and then it tightens and becomes a wheezing khee khee khee.

Eames switches back to the feather after that, teasing Arthur. He slides it down Arthur’s belly and through the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. Arthur pushes his hips up and spreads his thighs, and Eames dips the feather between Arthur’s ass cheeks and wriggles it against his hole. Arthur chuckles softly, and his cock jumps against his stomach. Eames does it again and again, and Arthur begins to pump his hips up and down and groan. He’s close.

Eames drops the feather and leans up to grab the electric toothbrush, using his finger to tickle Arthur’s hole in the meantime, keeping him on edge. He switches the toothbrush on. It starts to buzz, and Arthur moans.

Eames runs the bristles up and down the crease between Arthur’s ass cheeks, and Arthur gasps and giggles. Eames wraps a loose fist around Arthur’s cock and strokes him as he circles Arthur’s hole with the vibrating bristles. Arthur’s toes and his fingers curl, and he murmurs, “Eames. Eames, ‘m gonna come.”

“Go on then,” Eames says. He ducks his head down and flicks his tongue against Arthur’s balls, and Arthur whimpers, “Fuck” and comes. His cock pulses in Eames’ hand, and warmth spills down Eames’ knuckles. Eames drops the toothbrush to the mattress and tickles Arthur’s inner thigh with the tips of his fingers just to see what will happen. Arthur gasps and pumps out one more pulse of come.

Eames sits back on his heels, grinning and proud. He licks Arthur’s come off of his knuckles, and watches Arthur watch him.

Arthur glances down at Eames’ crotch and says, “Do- do you want...” He’s breathing heavily and having a hard time getting the words out. “You want me to-”

“I’m fine, love,” Eames says. He leans down to press a kiss into Arthur’s hipbone, and then he hops off the mattress and undoes the cuffs from around Arthur’s wrists and ankles. “Just relax for now. There’s no rush.”

Arthur stays in the same position after Eames unbinds him, limbs spread out towards the four corners of the mattress. He lets his head loll back and his eyes fall closed. He says, “We should take a shower together. But later. Now-” he yawns, “Now I need a nap.”

Eames goes to the end table to grab some tissues and a bottle of lotion. He wipes the come off of Arthur’s stomach and then lays down next to him to rub lotion into the red patches of skin on his thighs, biceps and stomach. Arthur hums happily and smiles.

Eames says, “So will any type of electric toothbrush do? Or do you prefer those like the one you have, with the circular bristles?”

“Why? Do you plan on doing some experimenting by yourself?”

“Actually I was thinking it’d be helpful for me to have one. In case we decide to do this again sometime and end up at mine.”

Arthur opens his eyes and looks up at him. Eames concentrates on massaging the lotion into the skin above Arthur’s ribs, allowing Arthur to study the side of his face. Arthur smiles and says, “I like the ones with the circular bristles.”

Eames leans up and kisses the tip of Arthur’s nose and says, “Noted.”


End file.
